Chronosynchronicity

Perhaps those few of you who read this blog religiously realized that I recently changed the name of it. Thirty Minutes of Wonderful never really fit the blog, it was mostly an homage to a quote that I loved from a movie that I still love. Recently, while scrolling through a list of obscure words, I came across this one:

Chronosynchronicity: the presentation of all stages of a person's life in a single piece of art. 

I don't know that I would call a blog "art", but then if these exhibits count as art, why not this as well? At any rate that description spoke to me. When I started this blog it was mostly about my weight loss journey. Which is an ongoing struggle and the one thing most posted about here. But it was also about my family, my kids, my husband, and my extended family. When I began it my mother had recently been diagnosed with cancer, and my world was in a whirlwind. So much has happened and much of it has never been posted here because it is private, personal information. But I want this blog to continue to be a record, if you will, of all the stages of my life. And so I share another stage with you today.

Yep, that's an empty nest.

On May 30th, while hubby and I were on a camping trip my boys moved out. We knew it was coming, it wasn't unexpected. The camping trip had been planned months ago, the moving out only came within the last month. Both boys had recently found jobs about an hour drive from here. And they were tired of making the long trek to work and back daily. So they had begun to look for an apartment in the last couple of months and started seriously saving to move out.

They found the apartment just a few weeks before our trip and chose to move out that weekend because it was the easiest time for them. They would receive a month's free rent at their new place if they were in it before June 1. And it just worked for them. So when we left for our camping trip, we knew we would come home to an emptier house.

The Moody Crew back in the day.

As hubby and I lay in our bed our first night home we were each quiet, lost in our own thoughts. "Whatcha thinkin' bout?" I asked
"I guess I'm just a little down about the boys, I didn't think it would bother me this much."
We snuggled closer and held each other. It's strange when your kids move out. I have to continuously remind myself that they aren't dead, they've just moved out. They aren't gone, they're just... gone.

I remember arguing with my boys so much when they were home over silly, stupid little things. I miss arguing with them. Don't get me wrong now, I don't want them to stay home forever. I want my kids to move out and start their own lives. I want them to be their own person, making their own decisions. It's just... different. For as long as I can remember I've been a mom. My job has been caring for my kids, and I've slowly been weaning myself off of that while they were here. But it's not just being a mom that I miss. It's the company, the conversations, I even miss the eye rolling and the complaining.

But along with missing them and wishing they were still here is yet another feeling, an anticipation for the new life that is to come. A curious spirit, a wondering. What's next? What will this next chapter of our lives be like? The only thing that I can do now is hope and pray that I taught my children as well as I could. I made mistakes, show me a parent who hasn't. But the one thing my children know is that I love them. I have loved them with all that I am for all of their lives. And I will always love them and be here for them no matter what. So as we all begin this next exciting and terrifying journey, we'll do it together, and separate, and we'll do it with hearts full of love.